Nevermore
by Azaz the Unabridged
Summary: After the anime’s end, Daisuke feels horribly alone (and angsty, naturally). When Riku proves unsupportive, he makes his way to Hiwatari Satoshi’s apartment, tumbling down a slippery slope to recovery... Sato x Dai.
1. Chapter One: Ghost

Here it is: _Nevermore_. In summary… After the anime's end, Daisuke is lonely and pending suicidal. When Riku seems unsupportive, he makes his way to Hiwatari Satoshi's apartment… but even Satoshi may not be able to give all the reassurance that Daisuke needs. Angst, mystery, romance. Whee! I regret to say that this chapter is more of a prologue than anything, but it's a necessary set-up…

Disclaimers: Characters belong to Yukiru Sugisaki, the "Memory" quote is from Webber's _Cats_. The title, _Nevermore_, is, of course, tied to Poe's "The Raven," which is also quoted. Rated PG-13 for impending shounen-ai, but there's not as much angst as I originally anticipated. If you're uncomfortable with Sato/Dai, implied Sato/Krad and Dark/Daisuke, or Takeshi/Towa, well… I warned you. Spoilers for the end of the anime. Large chunks of this were written during drivers' ed – beware.

***

**Nevermore: Chapter One**

_"It's so easy to leave me_

_All alone with the memory _

_Of my days in the sun." -- _Andrew Lloyd Webber, "Memory." 

_"Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; _

_And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. _

_Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow _

_From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— _

_For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— _

_     Nameless here for evermore." _– Edgar Allen Poe, "The Raven."

            It was dusk, mist creeping upriver from the sea, the air heavy, the first starts creeping over the horizon, visible now that the vaulted roof had fallen away and the walls were crumbling heaps.

            A boy stepped quietly in, fog fluttering in his wake like a cloak or a flurry of feathers. He sank down in the middle of the rubble, keeling in a sort of homage to a tall, shadowed something draped in fluttering tatters and glinting chains. He might have been a penitent, visiting the remains of some saint or martyr or—

            Kokuyoku.

            Slowly, he rose to his feet, treading softly through the rubble, face impassive and unreadable. He vaulted easily onto the remnants of a large stone platform; half of it lay in ruins on the ground. Scattered there among the debris were three black and silver fragments, each catching the last light of the sun and the first faint kisses of the full moon.

            Carefully, reverently, the boy put down the pack he'd been carrying and removed its contents, setting them softly on the stone and fiddling with each of them in turn. He sat there for a long, long time, whispering in a tongue long forgotten, shifting little latches, undoing tiny clasps. There was a faint sheen of perspiration on his brow when he finished; his arms trembled ever so slightly as he picked up two of the shining fragments and placed them in the objects he'd brought with him, then stopped, staring warily at the third and final piece. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and lifted the last fragment gently before placing it away with the other two.

            "They won't hold," he murmured, pausing to run a hand over the collection before him, "not all together."

            There was a low, creaking groan behind him, echoed by a faint, soft sigh.

            And as the moon rose over the ruins, Hikari Satoshi walked away.

***

_            Ring, ring._

Niwa Daisuke looked up blearily, dazed, and uncurled blearily on the bed. What… what had woken him up?

_            Ring, ring._

Ah. The phone. He let out a deep, slow sigh and buried his face in his pillow. It hadn't been easy to get to sleep last night, and even after he passed that threshold there were the _nightmares._

_            Ring, ring._

            Why hadn't anyone picked up the phone yet? Oh. Of course. The Niwa family was out on holiday. Even Towa-chan had gone along, lured by Emiko's promise of a shopping spree in their resort town, and Daisuke was left all alone save for With, who kyu-ed worriedly from under the quilts.

            _Ring, ring_.

            He didn't want to get up. Why should he?

            _Ring, ring. Bleeep._

            The answering machine clicked on with a rush of static. "Niwa-kun?" He head came up in a flash. "Niwa-kun, it's Riku. We haven't talked in a while, so—"

            "Riku-san?"

            "Oh, Niwa-kun." Her voiced sounded passionately relieved. "We haven't been in touch much over break; I was just making sure you were alright…" To be honest, they hadn't been particularly close in weeks, not since… "You _are_ alright, aren't you?"

            "Mm." It was a rather indistinct noise. "I was sleeping."

            She laughed. "At eleven, Niwa-kun?" He smiled faintly but stayed silent, and she rushed on. "Anyway, I was wondering if you'd like to meet for lunch…?"

            "Of course, Riku-san." Perhaps she'd be the one to get his spirits up again.

            Perhaps.

***

            They met at a little restaurant in the park. From the window, Daisuke could see the enormous fissure the series of quakes had caused and the bright flags that had been raised over the "newly unearthed" Toki no Byoushin. He had to look away.

            "So," asked Riku, trying to make small talk. "How's your break been?"

            "I'm not sleeping well," he admitted softly, picking at the sandwich before him. "I haven't in a while."

            "Not since…?"

            "Not since Dark disappeared," he whispered, pushing his plat away, his head in his arms. "I have nightmares about it. I can't stop thinking about him." He paused. "It's so _lonely_."

            "Niwa-kun…" She slipped next to him in the booth, holding his hand gently. "You can't go on reliving it over and over…"

            "But I can't stop." He pulled his hand away and hugged her, whispering in her ear so that no one else could hear them. "He lived with me. He _was_ me, and now he's gone, and I couldn't do anything about it."

            "You're feverish," she said, and her voice cracked worriedly. 

            "That doesn't have anything to do with it. I'm fine."

 "Then what _would_ you have done? How could you have stopped it?"

 "I could have kept him away from the museum," he muttered. "I could have sealed it off instead of him, and he could be here instead…"

            "But you're here," she said, "and he's not, and you have to move on."

            It stung. _And he's not_. No, Riku had always hated Dark. She'd never known him, never had the conversations and the feelings and the dreams… "I can't. Could you live without Harada-san? No, that's not enough. Could you live without a piece of yourself?"

            "But it's not like that, ne? He… he wasn't you. Niwa-kun is Niwa-kun."

            _He was me, and now he's gone._ He pulled away, blinking back the inklings of a tear, and said, dutifully, "Thank you, Riku-san."

            She didn't seem to be buying it; her features still radiated gentle concern and her brown eyes were wide and worried. "Call me if you need to talk." _About what, Riku-san? You want him to disappear for good and I can't let him go—I promised, our last promise…_ "But anyway, Niwa-kun, I wanted to give something to you…" She slipped back to the other side of the booth and rummaged through her tote bag, pulling out what looked to be a wad of tissues. Carefully, Riku unwrapped it and said faintly, "I need to ask again: is this yours, Niwa-kun?"

            His breath caught in his throat as she set the Fallen Angel's Love Potion on the table. "No."

            "But you were—"

            "It's Dark's," he said levelly. "He would have wanted you to keep it. To remember him."

            "He's gone, Niwa-kun. I don't want to be haunted by bad memories – of you, and him, and Risa-chan… do you know how worried I always was for her, how awful that time was? I don't want to remember, Niwa-kun."

            It sat there on the table like a gauntlet thrown, catching the restaurant lights on its crystal face and throwing them back in a rainbow of teardrops. "Keep it, Riku-san. Please."

            She shook her head. "I can't." Bag in hand, she rose to her feet and gave him a light kiss on the cheek that he declined to return, staring instead at the tiny art-piece on the table. "Goodbye, Niwa-kun."

            He watched her walk away unburdened, unwearied, then turned back and stared broodingly at the little vial, at its tiny wings and warped shadows. "Goodbye, Harada-san."

***

He took it, of course; it wouldn't do to leave a Hikari masterpiece sitting as a waitress's tip. But still, he found himself pausing outside his mother's basement gallery, unwilling to push aside the heavy door. Of all the places in the house, this was the one he'd have liked to avoid the most. The dozens of artpieces cast a shower of shadows on the walls and floor; every flicker of the torches sent black feathers fluttering around the room.

            And every feather was a knife in his heart, a cold reminder that he was _alone_. And every feather was so very, very painful… Still, he pushed open the door, the torches flaring into pale, charmed flames, and there the dance began. He resisted the temptation to close his eyes and shut out the shadows, but first he had to lock away the Fallen Angel's Love Potion and complete the one heist he and Dark had never finished…

            _"Remember, Daisuke: I am inside of you."_

            Everyone was forgetting. Adoring Towa-chan, obsessive Emiko, bemused Kosuke, even Daiichi Niwa, who had been a winghost forty years ago. And now Riku-san, too, after all that had happened…

            It hurt.

            It was Daisuke alone who kept the candle burning, because he was too entranced by the shadows to let them fade away, even though every flicker burned like cold, sharp ice, and every recollection and dream and imagining was the crack of a lash.

            He should have stopped it, done something, _anything_. Azumano could have fallen to the earthquakes, for all he cared, so long as he had Dark… it was so lonely without another presence laughing in his mind; so many times he half-expected Dark to chime in on some choice tidbit, only to remember that Dark was gone… and that it was all his fault.

            _So alone._

            He fell to a heap on the stone of the floor, breathing heavily. If there had been anyone around to take his temperature, they would have watched the thermometer skyrocket; Niwa Daisuke was burning up; that was no ordinary flush on his cheeks, that was the rosy flare of fever…

            "Kyu…?"

            He might have stayed down there 'til the fever broke, wasting away, if it hadn't been for With scampering after him, all wide-eyed fluffy-demon-bunny charm and sugariness. "With…" As though moving mountains, he reached and pulled Dark's familiar into his arms, hugging the rabbit like a rag doll, something to hold on to and brave a storm with. "You remember, don't you? Dark… the famous phantom thief. You haven't forgotten him… you can't have…" Rabbit ears, he noted bemusedly, looked so much like wings by torchlight, great black wings that spread on and on... "Dark… oh, god, With, I can't take it anymore…" He buried his head in the familiar's soft fur and With, with uncanny perception, nuzzled gently in return.

            Daisuke leaned back against the wall, breath already starting to come in gasps. "We can't stay here, can we?" he whispered. "I can't… the shadows…" He had to close his eyes, but then the mess was just a hastily sketched inverse, even more mocking than the myriad of shadows slinking slowly 'round the walls. "I can't stay here."

            Unsteadily, he rose to his feet, bracing himself against the wall for support as he opened the door and let it creak itself open, to tired to push the heavy wood aside. His body was screaming at him to sit down – or was that With, _kyu_-ing frantically? – but he couldn't stay there with feathers of Dark's memory swirling in a foggy haze before him; he'd go mad within the hour if he didn't get away from the reminders of all Dark's heists and their mocking, laughing shadows. _Serves you right, Niwa Daisuke, little phantom thief… serves you right, Niwa Daisuke, for letting Dark go on alone…_

Alone.

            He didn't even notice as he stumbled out the door in his house slippers, driven on by the relentless tide of memory. It seemed that every grain of wood held some tragic ghost, that the very air he breathed was an echo of something precious lost, and here, under the steady spring rain, there was an uncanny kind of solitude, a momentary euphoria as the chill hit him, and it seemed so much like a kaitou's laughter…

            Somehow, he remembered to shut the door behind him and wandered away like a puppy looking for its master, With perched on his shoulder. When the fever hit again, he almost didn't notice the harsh rip of his shirt's thin fabric, almost didn't notice as With's wings spread out behind him, keeping him on his feet. But, then again, by that point he was too far-gone to notice much at all. He floundered in and out of consciousness, his clothes soaking through, his breath coming in pained gasps. Daisuke saw the park from a bird's eye view, only to have it fade away and blur back into clarity over the bluff of windmills, and then…

            He was in a building out of the rain, standing – or being supported by With's steady-beating wings – in front of a door. The carpet was beige, the walls were white, but the number on the door blurred into a puddle of blue before his eyes, and the scene swam dangerously. 

            Without warning, With's wings fell away, and Niwa Daisuke crumpled against the door.

***

Guess whose door it is? No, go on, I dare you!

Next chapter will be Satoshi's POV, which I find much easier to write in (especially as I'm not really up to Daisuke-angst, and would very much like to get back to my dry, nonchalant Satoshi). Yes, it believe it's true… people are more likely to get sick when they're depressed. Apparently kids have asthma attacks watching _E.T._ or something of the sort.

And remember: reviews are Dai-chan's Prozac. 


	2. Chapter Two: A Tapping

Presenting the second chapter of _Nevermore_, in which you the reader shall learn and not be terribly surprised about whose door Daisuke was dropped off at, and in which there is much angst and crying but not nearly enough Sato/Dai hints until the end of the update.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Yukiru Sugisaki, the second quote is from Tolkien's first _Book of Lost Tales_. The title, _Nevermore_, was stolen directly from Poe's "The Raven," which has the dubious honor of being quoted once again. Rated PG-13 for impending shounen-ai and mild angst. If you're uncomfortable with Sato/Dai, implied Sato/Krad or Dark/Daisuke, I don't know why you didn't leave during the first chapter. While _Nevermore_ is an independent fic, there's a brief allusion to my short, "True Light," which is a pre-series fic with Satoshi and Kosuke. Blink and you'll miss it.

***

**Nevermore: Chapter Two.**

_O__nce upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,_

_Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,—_

_While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,_

_As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door._

_"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;___

_Only this and nothing more."_ – Edgar Allen Poe, "The Raven."

_"You and I got lost in Sleep,_

_And met each other there—_

_Your dark hair on your white nightgown,_

_And mine was tangled fair." _-- J.R.R. Tolkien, "You and Me and the Cottage of Lost Play."

            Hiwatari Satoshi hardly blinked when he heard the thud at the door. There were some people downstairs with little children and it was rainy; it was all too likely that they were playing a game, though it was late enough that Satoshi might take the issue up with the landlord if he was feeling grumpy in the morning. Nonplussed, he turned back to his papers, shuffling through the odds and ends he'd scavenged from his foster-father's office. Most of them were locked safely away in the study, but these pieces had tidbits of information he'd never seen before, and he wasn't going to file them away into orderly obscurity without draining them dry…

            A handful of papers fell to the floor, old parchment laced with notes in spindly pencil and diagrams in bold, clear ink, bright as the day they'd been drawn. He allowed himself the faintest of smiles before picking them up off the floor and slipping them back into their proper place, but there, there above the desk –

            "Kyuu…"

            Satoshi stared. There – on _his_ shelf – was a little white rabbit. Of course, Satoshi had enough experience with the thing to be well aware that it was most certainly _not_ a rabbit in the conventional sense, no matter what seemingly harmless form it had chosen for the moment. Still, it seemed content to pass the time in a staring contest, kyuu-ing again when Satoshi had to blink (perhaps it was the red eyes, but it seemed that blinking was merely and affectation for demon-wing-bunnies). All the while, Satoshi's mind was racing… If the Niwas' pet (if it could be called a pet) had gotten into his apartment, then Dark… No, it couldn't be; he had made sure neither of _them_ would ever come out again. He'd scattered the key's pieces himself; he would have known…

            What was it, then? The familiar was smarter than the average rabbit, true, but any creature intelligent enough to come here completely on its own would have posed a threat to its summoners; the Niwa clan would have left it back in hell, or wherever it was that one summoned demon bunnies from, nowadays. Daisuke? He doubted, somehow, that Daisuke would come over here of his own accord, but…

            The familiar jumped from its perch with a heated "kyu!" and Satoshi instinctively put an arm over his face, but the rabbit-thing landed at his feet and began nudging his ankles like a lop-eared, over-sized cat. When Satoshi failed to respond in any way whatsoever, it hopped to the door, whimpering like a lost puppy.

            Satoshi eyed it with a healthy dose of skepticism. It seemed to have gotten in on its own; why was it clawing at his door like a cat that wanted to go out? Still, the sooner the thing was out of his apartment, the better, so Satoshi walked slowly across the room, drawing from his reserve pool of skepticism and glancing through the look-shot to make sure that he wasn't confusing the Niwas' demon-pet with someone unknown serial killer's demon pet. When he didn't see anyone in the hall, he unbolted the door and—

            And lo and behold, Niwa Daisuke tumbled across the threshold at his feet.

            Satoshi blinked. "Niwa-kun?" The redhead was soaked through, locks of hair lying limply over his closed eyes, and the tell-tale holes in the back of his shirt showed pale, wet gooseflesh. "Niwa-kun?" He bent down and rolled Niwa off his stomach, checking breathing and pulse in one fluid motion, but no, Niwa wasn't cold at all, and there was perspiration mixed with the rainwater on his face, though there were faint lines that might have been tear tracks… Alarmed, Satoshi lifted the redhead up in his arms as easily as one might a rag doll, taking in again the flesh of fever, the torn shirt, the small crooning familiar nudging the door shut behind them with a dull _thud_. "What happened to you?" he murmured.

            "…ta… ri… Hi – Hiwatari… kun?" Niwa stirred slightly in his arms, eyes fluttering wearily open. "Thank you…"

            Satoshi sat the redhead down on the couch and started to move away, only to have Niwa catch his hand with warm, trembling fingers. "You're sick," he said, sitting down next to the boy and skipping the preliminaries of inquiring after his visitor's health. 

            Niwa tried to shake his head, and gave a faint, pained little smile that faded in an instant. "No…"

            Given the circumstances, Satoshi found it perfectly acceptable to give the boy a _look_, though he refrained from dispensing a full force glare. However much he tried to deny it, Niwa was sick enough that much more than a glance would have knocked him over like grass in the breeze. "You're burning up," he said flatly, "and soaking wet." He glanced at the familiar, crouched protectively on a cabinet, and said nothing of the great tears in the dripping fabric of Niwa's shirt. "You're shivering and can hardly move. Don't expect me to believe you're alright."

            "I'm fine," the boy insisted, trying to sit up. His arms seemed to give way on him halfway through the effort, though, and his familiar was at his side in an instant, nudging him up. "It's nothing."

            "You're sick," he repeated, pulling the redhead up and propping him up with a pillow as the demon-bunny skittered away onto the coffee table. 

            Niwa closed his glassy eyes tiredly and sank down on the couch's arm. "Not sick," he said huskily. "Lonely…" His hand went feebly to his heart and he opened his eyes, staring at Satoshi with a certain wild air, and the light of fever was almost indistinguishable from the growing glow of madness in his gaze. "You… you know, ne, Hiwatari-kun?"

            _Black feathers and black wings and…_ He gave a stiff nod. "Dark?"

            Sighing, the redhead closed his eyes again. "He was always there and talking and laughing, and no one else understands that he was a part of me, not just some silly little friend, he was _me_, and they can't ever know what it's like now that he's gone…"

            "Who are _they_, Niwa-kun?"

            "Riku-san," he whispered.

            "What happened between you and Harada-san?" It was Risa who liked Dark, and Satoshi had seen the older twin blow up whenever Dark was mentioned, despite – or perhaps because of — what the phantom thief had thought of her. Still, Niwa had leaned heavily on Harada Riku after the immediate shock of the Kokuyoku incident, and if she'd done something to him, it could have been the last little straw…

            Niwa shook his head vehemently and glossed over this by rattling off some more names. "It's not just Riku-san, it's kaasan and tousan and Towa-chan and… and everyone. But you know what they were like… You remember, don't you? Please say you remember…"

            "Yes, Niwa," he said gently. "I remember."

            "And you won't forget him? I won't be remembering alone?"

            Satoshi paused. "I'll remember."

            Niwa smiled, such a weak smile that Satoshi almost didn't catch it. "Thank you."

            They sat there for a long while like that, Satoshi watching Niwa bemusedly as the redhead's chest rose and fell with each gasping, husky breath. "Do your parents know you're here?" he asked finally, and the spell shattered with the tangible tension of a thousand shards of glass smashing on the floor.

            "They're not around," the smaller boy said. "They went on holiday with Towa-chan before school got out…" He struggled and finally managed to sit up, his familiar half-hopping half-flying to nuzzle his hand encouragingly. Niwa was looking at Satoshi very seriously, bright eyes wide. "Ne, Hiwatari-kun… does it hurt?"

            "Does what hurt?"

            "Your heart."

            Satoshi blinked. Did the boy understand what it was like to live without his other self? He looked at Niwa incredulously, at the tired, frail form and the sad, flushed face. He'd been _thrilled_ when Krad disappeared, when that unwanted bit of himself disappeared and the last shards of ice in his heart finally thawed. When Kokuyoku was sealed, he'd been delighted, he'd been thrilled, free for the first time to think his own thoughts without _him_ whispering or threatening or coming out and wreaking havoc… "No." Niwa sighed lightly again, wavering where he sat, and Satoshi reached immediately to steady him. "I'm sorry," he offered, and then, reconfirming the sickly warmth of Niwa's hands, added, "You need medicine."

            "It's just a fever," the boy protested, but Satoshi was already up and moving off to the packed little medicine cabinet. There were dozens of half-empty bottles, left over from a rather sickly childhood and a certain children's psychiatrist who'd been sure Satoshi's icy demeanor and unwillingness to talk to stupid people was some strain of selective mutism. Somehow, the over-the-counter fever-reducers and headache-killers had gravitated towards the back of this medicinal mess, hiding behind an enormous bottle of something with a worn and faded label.

            Returning with medicine and a glass of water in hand, Satoshi's first thought was that Niwa had dozed off, curled in a little ball, but the boy looked tearily up at Satoshi as he entered. Stoically, Satoshi offered Niwa the drab little pills, and the redhead swallowed silently. "I'm sorry, Hiwatari-kun," he whispered hoarsely some time later, tears still chasing each other down his face. "I've been a nuisance…"

            "It's alright, Niwa-kun," he said, brushing pale blue bangs out of his eyes. "It's hardly your fault."

            "But it is," said Niwa, and alarm bells went off in Satoshi's mind, though his pose radiated nothing but a certain calm impassiveness. "I was there at the museum with him; I could have kept him from going or something, anything…"

            He was talking about Dark, of course. "You couldn't have done anything about it. He made his own decisions going in there."

            "That's what Riku-san said…" He sounded almost accusatory, though any hint of snappishness was well hidden beneath layer upon layer of tired grief. 

            "She's right," he said, not unkindly. "You'd already given Dark control of your body and you… you saved my life." Satoshi had been full ready to kill himself to keep Krad from unlocking the powers of Kokuyoku, and it had been Niwa who brought him back, who pushed through the bloody circle. 

            The boy gave a teary smile. "That was one good thing…"

            "Dark knew full well what he was doing. It was his choice to seal the Black Wings, Niwa-kun, and his choice was to save the city and everyone in it. His choice was to save you, so that you could go on and you could be _happy_…" He sounded like someone's doddering old mother, he thought wryly, or perhaps a televangelist, but it _hurt_ to see the redhead like this when Niwa had always been the bright, enthusiastic one, the optimistic one…

            "But I can't be happy, not when…" He tripped over the words, biting his lip. "Dammit, Hiwatari-kun, it's _lonely_ and it feels like everyone is leaving or forgetting and it _hurts_ and sometimes it feels like I'll never be happy again, not with Riku-san or you or anyone when all I can do is think back about how happy I was _then_ with him always there and laughing—"

            "Niwa-kun." Satoshi cut him off sharply, grabbing the redhead's shoulders until Niwa was looking at him and stopped ranting on. "Niwa-kun, you're hysterical. You have a fever, you're delirious. You need to calm down."

            He took a deep breath, shaky and rattling, but it was, at least, a break in the soft, wracking sobs, the calm at the heart of the storm where Satoshi could, perhaps, get a word in edgewise before the winds picked up again. "He wanted you to live and be happy."

            "He wanted to be remembered…"

            "And he will be."

            With that, all the worry seemed to rush out of the redhead, like water rushing out of a sieve into a more pleasant oblivion, and whatever tense cord had been holding Niwa up seemed to have vanished; the boy collapsed into Satoshi's lap like a puppet whose strings have been snipped away. He was crying again, true, but he didn't seem quite so desperate… 

            Tentatively, Satoshi put his arms around Niwa, which earned him an approving "kyuu" from the demon bunny. They sat like that longer than Satoshi could reckon; it was long past midnight when he finally glanced up at the clock, and, slowly, Niwa started to unwind. Satoshi listened with a sort of detached attentiveness as the hiccupping sobs turned into ragged panting and finally slow, collected breaths, and felt as Niwa's chest took on the steady rise and fall of the quiet sleeper. Even then, even when he was sure that the redhead was asleep, he sat there, taking in the soft, damp smell of Niwa's hair and the flushed porcelain of his skin and savoring it with the air of a wine connoisseur who is willing to sample a glass a sip at a time and stretch the moment on forever.

            Finally, as he himself was nodding off, he picked Niwa up and carried him through the quiet apartment to the bedroom, where he set the redhead down like a child. But as he checked the fever's heat, Niwa caught his hand sleepily and opened his eyes just a little bit, lashes fluttering faintly. "Hi… Hiwatari-kun?"

            "Niwa?"

            "Will… will you stay with me?" 

Satoshi stared at him, and Niwa's voice echoed round and round in his head. _Lonely… and it feels like everyone is leaving or forgetting… stay with me?_ And this little boy looked so frail and beaten down and—

            "Please… don't go."

***

*cries* They're not in character enough~~! I'm sorry, I just don't feel like I got the characters down well enough this chapter. Alas. No, I didn't say that Satoshi was on drugs or had psychological disorders, I said crazy doctors thought he had them (I was thinking about Jeffrey Ford's "The Empire of Ice Cream," and obviously Satoshi has _some_ sort of issues…). There was actually a short bit on Krad on anti-borderline personality disorder drugs, arsenic-laced brownies, and innocent rodents, but this was edited out as it presented a serious hazard to the sob-story mood.

And to my reviewers, whose Prozac-filled contributions to the cause will set Daisuke back on track to being our perky pretty Dai-chan… I love you all (and thank Sage of Angst for catching the Daiki/Daichii mixup, and would like to Kayuuko for asking to host "Nevermore," which made my day). So many lovely reviews! Such encouragement! You're wonderful!

When you're done reading this, I encourage you to reread it, inserting some variation of "[to] molest him then and there" where you feel appropriate. Or you can review, as either one will make me smile and let me know that I've contributed something to the world.


	3. Chapter Three: Rustling

I give you the third chapter of _Nevermore_, in which there is much Satoshi angst, some bad quasi-Freudism, Risa, Kosuke, and the first of something more solid than the shounen-ai hints I've been tossing out, but, again, they've hidden towards the end of the chapter, silly things.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Yukiru Sugisaki, the quotes belong to McLean and The Who; the title was yanked from Poe's "The Raven." Rated PG-13 for mild shounen-ai, Tabasco sauce, and angst. If you're uncomfortable with Sato/Dai, implied Sato/Krad, or Dark/Daisuke, what are you doing here at chapter three? While _Nevermore_ is, again, an independent fic, there's a handful of more "True Light" references, so if you blink at something in the Kosuke conversation don't stress, but they're little things that won't make the story hard to get through. Promise.
    
    ***

Nevermore: Chapter Three__

_"A long, long time ago  
I can still remember  
How that music used to make me smile  
And I knew if I had my chance  
That I could make those people dance  
 And maybe they'd be happy for a while…"_ -- Don McLean, "American Pie."

_"If I swallow anything evil  
Put your finger down my throat  
If I shiver, please give me a blanket  
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat."_ -- The Who, "Behind Blue Eyes."

            It became clear that something was very, very wrong with Niwa. Satoshi, who had fallen asleep in a chair at the redhead's side, was awoken in the dark hours of the morning by Niwa thrashing. It took him several fuzzy moments to recall just why the smaller boy was in his bed and, blearily, he put a hand to Niwa's forehead. There was a faint feverish flush, but nothing serious, nothing that should have been making the boy toss and turn to restlessly… "Niwa," he hissed. The redhead's eyes stayed tightly shut in a desperate sort of wincing expression, but he shuddered and relaxed, breathing heavily, almost panting.

            "… Hi… wa… ta…" Niwa's hands clasped his own faintly, with the tenuous grip of an infant grasping at a parent's finger. Satoshi sighed lightly, tiredly, and withdrew his hand out of the smaller boy's grasp, only to have Niwa reach restlessly for him again, whimpering slightly. "… ri… kun…"

            Satoshi sat there until the sun was high in the sky, motionless, half dozing, only to be roused again by the glare coming in through the half-closed curtains. The clock, leering red-eyed from the dresser, announced perfunctorily that it was nearly seven, time to find some more medicine for Niwa. He glanced over the boy, who, defying the apparent odds, slept peacefully, with only ragged breathing left as token of his restless nighttime stirrings. The tracks on the his face, however, left feather-faint traces on his cheeks as silent witness to his tears…

            Niwa was feverish, Satoshi noted, frowning. It would seem that the medicine had worn off, but the redhead hadn't started thrashing again. Still… The blue-haired boy moved off for a glass of water and some fever-killer, alarmed by the temperature Niwa was running, only to find Niwa muttering again and turning restlessly when he returned. "Wake up," said Satoshi firmly, shaking the smaller boy awake. Niwa opened his eyes like a newborn kitten, just a slit of his fever-clouded irises showing from under his lashes, then tried to roll back into the pillow, only to have Satoshi catch him and half-drag him into a sitting position. "Take the medicine," he insisted, brusquely popping the little white tablets into Niwa's mouth, "and then you can go back to sleep." Niwa spluttered, but took a bleary-eyed swallow and smiled faintly at Satoshi. It was a smile without any recognition, just a sense of raw gratitude and a preconscious association with something akin to peace and rest. And that feverish cast to Niwa's face… Almost reluctantly, Satoshi let Niwa slip away down to the mattress, watching the redhead slip back into his fever-dreams.

            When he got up to move, he found that Niwa's fingers had found their way back around his wrist.

            Carefully drawing away, he treaded cat-quiet through the flat, pulling out a dusty directory and scanning for the Harada name, then slipping back into the bedroom to watch over Niwa. He ran through streets and sub-districts in his mind until he had eliminated all of the entries on "Harada" save for that of the listing in the most affluent neighborhood. Picking up the phone, he dialed the number and waited.

            "Harada residence." It was a man's voice, which caught Satoshi slightly off-guard, but he pressed on anyways.

            "Is Harada Risa-san there?"

            "One moment, master…?"

            "Hiwatari."

            There was the faint _clunk_ of the phone being put down and, several moments later, the fumbling sounds of someone picking up the phone and a sugary "Hiwatari-kun?" 

            "I need to talk to you about Niwa-kun, Harada-san," he said smoothly. 

"Alright," said the girl brightly.

"Has anything happened between him and Riku-san?"

            "Not that I know of," she said, though she didn't sound horribly sure. "Why?"

            "He's out of sorts."

            "And you think it has something to do with Riku? Riku would never do anything to Niwa-kun. You should know that."

            "Harada-san, something is wrong with Niwa-kun. I'm not accusing Riku-san of anything, but I _need to know_. Did something happen? Did your sister tell you anything or come home upset?"

            "Not… not that I recall…"

            "Is Riku-san there?"

            "No, she's out at a game with the lacrosse team, she won't be back until this evening."

            "Then do you remember anything at all?" he pressed, glancing over at Daisuke, sleeping peacefully at his side, one small hand curled lightly around Satoshi's fingers.

             "No," she repeated, voice testy even over the phone.

             "Alright, Harada-san," said Satoshi leadenly.  "Thank you for your time." 

             "I'm sorry, Hiwatari-kun, but I really don't—" 

             "It's fine," he said. "Goodbye." He hung up without waiting for her response; he'd gotten everything he could out of her, which was, in all essentiality, nothing, and he was wary of talking to Harada Riku. If something _had_ happened between her and Niwa, he wasn't positive she'd talk to him about it. "And you won't tell me anything about it either, Niwa-kun," he sighed, starting to shift away and having to, once again, unhook the redhead's fingers from his arm as he stood. "Poor Niwa."

            Leaving the doors between his bedroom and his study open, Satoshi flicked on his computer and keyed into the police network, searching for recent travel and hotel bookings under the Niwa name. Luckily, it was not a horribly common surname; there was a party of thirteen staying in Tokyo, but there was only one really viable choice and, with a combination of police authority and rudimentary hacking programs, Satoshi was able to pull a hotel name and suite number for "Niwa Kosuke." This minor abuse of police privileges seemed to Satoshi a sort of due recompense for dangling off roofs and rushing off to amusement parks in the middle of the night.

            It was while he waited for the desk manager to redirect him to the Niwa suite that he remembered the problem of the implacable and certifiably insane Niwa matriarch. True, Satoshi had only talked with her a handful of times, but none of these had been particularly pleasant experiences and he was loathe to hear what she'd accuse him of if he told her that her son was sick and had showed up at his doorstep the night before. He doubted that it would be pretty, but still—

             "Hello?" 

             "Is your wife there?" asked Satoshi, putting a great deal of effort into keeping his voice as bland as possible. 

             "No," said Niwa Kosuke, bemused but still perfectly amiable, a perfect template for what his son _ought_ to be, "but I can get her if you'd like—" 

             "No thank you," Satoshi said quickly. "This is about Daisuke-kun." 

             "Daisuke? Who—?" 

             "Hiwatari Satoshi," he put in smoothly. There was a pause on the other end, an expectant silence. Satoshi could well imagine Niwa Kosuke's expression on the other end; it was as clear as it had been two years ago, in the snow-blanketed chapel. He paused and amended, with a little half-annoyed scowl, "Hikari Satoshi." 

            With this matter out of the way, Niwa-san dove back into the issue at hand. "What about Daisuke?" 

             "He's sick," said Satoshi, "and depressed. I'd say he'd worked up something of a dependency disorder, and when Dark disappeared—" 

             "Where is he now?" It seemed that Niwa-san didn't care much for Satoshi's quasi-qualified psychological analysis, which left the blue-haired boy moderately miffed. 

             "Here at my flat." 

             "And Riku-san?" 

            Of course. It was to be expected that Niwa would have turned to Harada Riku first, and that was why it had been so hard on Niwa when Riku had refused to listen, or ignored him, or whatever had gone on between them. "Something happened. Risa couldn't tell me, and Niwa-kun… he's sleeping right now." 

            There was another heavy pause "And what do you propose?" 

            Satoshi blinked on his line. "I… thought you ought to know." _He's your son, after all._

             "You said… he's worrying because of Dark?" 

             "That's what he told me." 

             "Well, then, Hikari-san," said Niwa-san briskly, "I think Daisuke's in the right place."

             "You don't want to—" 

             "Daisuke's been through a lot, most of it that I'd never understand, that Emiko-san would never understand. The two of us would probably cause more harm than good. His grandfather might be a bit more helpful, but you're his friend, Hikari-kun, his double, in a sense. You went through it with him; it ended in the same rush for you that it did for him. You've talked with him, right?" 

             "Yes, a bit." 

            Satoshi could well imagine Niwa-san shrugging on the other line. "I think he should stay with you. Talk to Daisuke, be his light." 

             "You want him to stay here?"

             "If it's not too much of a problem." 

            Niwa-san's nonchalance was catching Satoshi off-guard; he'd expected the man to be worried, or to call in his wife and let Satoshi know that they'd be there on the fastest train to Azumano. Instead… "Not… not really, no." 

             "Well, then, that's settled," said Kosuke, jovial. "Give him our best wishes." Satoshi, tongue-tied, stared silently at the wall, and Niwa-san pushed ahead. "We'll be back on the twenty-first, and Emiko-san will worry if he's not at home by then, so help him along. Watch well, Hikari-san." 

            The phone went silent.

            Part of Satoshi felt like laughing at the absurdity of it, of a _Hikari_ watching over a _Niwa_, of all people, and said Niwa's _sane_ parent being perfectly alright with the situation at hand and encouraging Satoshi to keep Niwa Daisuke at his flat. _I'm not originally from the Niwa family_, he had said to Satoshi, once upon a winter, _so I have a different way of viewing things…_

            The phantom thief was gone. 

            So why not?

            The Niwa clan's demon-bunny cut his musings short, scampering into the study with a worried "kyuu." Satoshi wheeled out the door in an instant, needing no other message than the familiar's presence to know that something was wrong with Niwa again, just as the medicine ought to have been kicking in at its strongest, just as the boy ought to have been quiet and still and _not so sick_.

            _Watch well, Hikari-san._

            The redhead was back to thrashing, sobbing and tossing and turning. "Niwa!" Satoshi found himself half shouting, catching the boy's flailing limbs and pinning them down. Niwa's hands clawed wildly at the front of Satoshi's shirt, eyes scrunched tight. Satoshi sat on the bed and held Niwa down, and Niwa shuddered into quiet, peaceful silence, still asleep, it would seem, and his head dropped into Satoshi's lap. The blue-haired boy gave a small start, then relaxed as Niwa's breathing became slow and easy…

            He'd told Niwa Kosuke that he would watch over this boy, that he'd keep him here and guide him back to some semblance of sanity. Dammit, Satoshi wasn't going to sit back and watch Niwa Daisuke waste away, not after everything that had happened to the two of them…

            And what Niwa needed was comfort.

            It wasn't hard, with so many cards on the table, to put two and two together; it wasn't the fever that made Niwa toss and whimper, though the fever was keeping him unconscious, uninhibited, amplifying every little feeling and worry. The super-ego and ego seemed to have been burned away by the fever, and the boy was in some sepia state of pain and comfort… Niwa had lived a year with another presence, with constant reassurance, and now that voice, that comfort was gone in a flurry of inky feathers, and those million wounds he'd suffered...

            Satoshi ran his hands through Niwa's still-damp hair idly. It was physical touch, then, that calmed the boy, the sort of reassurance that the subconscious equated with Dark returning, with the end of the pain. This was more than layman's idle speculation, true, but Niwa Kosuke hadn't seemed to care about Satoshi's hypotheses, he just wanted Niwa taken care of…

            When Dark had disappeared, Krad had disappeared also. The chains had been broken, the bonds cut – when Dark and Krad had left, it had been a blessing for Satoshi. Some weight on his heart had been lifted then, and when he'd seen the sun shining over the sea, he'd seen it without Krad's feathers falling in his eyes for the first time in a year's slow eternity. A _blessing_.

            And, for Niwa Daisuke, it had been a curse.

            Somehow, the Black Wings' sealing had ended Staoshi's living hell and forced the pain on Niwa Daisuke, innocent, laughing Niwa Daisuke, who had never deserved this twisted delirium, and Satoshi was going to bring Niwa back to the way he'd been before, heaven and hell be damned together.

            His hands tightened unconsciously in Niwa's hair; the redhead gave a small, tired noise and Satoshi froze, but the boy went on sleeping quietly. Satoshi sighed lightly and ruffled the loose strands of Niwa's hair, daring to bend down and brush his lips over Niwa's cheek protectively, possessively. Krad would have been out for that, would have throttled Niwa in his sleep before Satoshi could get a word in edgewise, and those snow white feathers were so _easily_ stained with blood…

            But he'd take it all back, all the troubles, all the pain, all the burning-cold whispers, just to see Niwa smile again. 

             "Dai... suke…"

***

Strangely enough, I'm pretty nonplussed by having Kosuke being so nonchalant about Daisuke's condition; accepting and getting things settled quickly is just how I perceive the ever-so-wonderful Kosuke. You may call me out on this if you're so inclined. I am, however, concerned with how quickly those phone calls went by (though any longer and I would have been bored of them), as well as with the clarity my explanation of what's wrong with Daisuke, in part because the idea made so much more sense in the chapter outline. Unfortunately, my access to my regular computer is down as I ship it back to Dell, so any more edits would have left me updating half a month from now. Sorry, loves.

Thanks to Sage of Angst, Kiyomi22, digitalized, silver_tears, Flighting dreams, Ayame, Luine, xxphatxbaybeexx, Shooting Starr, kasbaka, KimiKodoku, Enkay, Kuroi Kitty, kawaiidark, Pocketfirefairy, Nox Noctis, fairy of irrelevance, and fowler Nsow (the last two of whom slipped reviews in just before my cutting time) for reviewing!

Give Daisuke a hug – review, comment, rave, complain!


	4. Chapter Four: Ember

And after much delay, here is the fourth chapter of "Nevermore," in which there is rice, an advance notice, and something with no notice at all except for the fact that, given the pairing of the fic, it was inevitable.

Disclaimer: Characters are Yukiru Sugisaki's, title inspired by Poe, quotes by McLean and Smith, and you should all be glad that I didn't use "Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch-Me" lyrics, because that would have been _beyond_ heavy-handed. There was going to be a _Princess Bride _reference, but there isn't. Rated PG-13 for this chapter's Sato/Dai, and if by chance you're one of those anti-slashers who randomly made it to this chapter, this is your last warning, except that there'll be another one next chapter, too.

Would anyone like to beta-read for me? Please?

***

Nevermore: Chapter Four

_"Did you write the Book of Love--_

_And do you have faith in God above--_

_If the Bible tells you so? _

_Do you believe in rock 'n roll--_

_Can music save your mortal soul--_

_And can you teach me how to dance real slow?" -- _Don McLean, "American Pie."

_"Love has found a magic space_

_A deep and hidden place where time stands still_

_Now I hold you in my arms_

_You know you hold my heart and always will_

_And you and I, here we are_

_And it's a wonder that we've come this far._ -- Michael W. Smith, "Do You Dream Of Me?"

            Satoshi was sleeping when Niwa woke up. "Ne, Hiwatari-kun…" The blue-eyed boy rose abruptly, only to have his low blood pressure and the early-morning streetlamps toss a screen of multi-colored shimmers in his eyes. He blinked several times, each time rewarding him less static and a clearer view of the small, bewildered boy sitting tiredly in his bed. "Hiwatari-kun… what happened?"

            Niwa's hand was still firmly wrapped around his own.

            "You were sick," said Satoshi levelly. "You _are_ sick. You came here last night with a fever and—"

            "Oh," Niwa said faintly, meekly.

            "Do you remember?"

            The redhead nodded slowly and looked, wide-eyed, up at Satoshi. "I'm sorry, Hiwatari-kun… I must have been a nuisance…"

            "No." It had been problematic staying in his room with Niwa, true, but Satoshi had promised Niwa Kosuke to take care of the boy, and this was nothing compared to what Niwa had done for him… "You were fine." Satoshi looked severely at the redhead. "But I haven't gotten you to eat since you came here, Niwa-kun."

            "Oh, I'm sorry—"

            "Don't be, Niwa-kun." _Don't be so jumpy, so worried._ "Do you mind rice…?"

            "No, not at all," said Niwa quickly.

            The blue-eyed boy pushed back his chair and stood, hand pulling away from Niwa's. The redhead seemed to notice this for the first time; his eyes went wide and he looked down at the demon bunny, dozing at the foot of the bed, rather than meet Satoshi's level gaze. "I'm sorry, Hiwatari-kun," he whispered. "I _have_ been trouble…"

            "Niwa-kun." Satoshi sat back on the bed, placing both of Niwa's small hands in his. "Niwa-kun, I would have done anything to help you – anything – and nothing I could do would come close to what you did for me when _they_ were here. Don't worry."

            "Hiwatari-kun…" Niwa was shaking slightly. "Thank you…"

            Satoshi nodded and rose again, letting Niwa's fingers slip away one by one. When he returned, Niwa was still sitting in the same position, staring at his hands like a statue, like Pygmalion's masterpiece waiting to take a first breath but poised on the brink between marble and life. The redhead looked up when Satoshi handed him a bowl, but still looked hopelessly shaken.

            Their fingers brushed.

            It was quiet for a while; Satoshi rested his head on the desk as Niwa ate and the demon bunny curled itself at the foot of the bed like an albino, lop-eared dog, watching the two boys lazily. 

            "I called your father," said Satoshi finally, breaking the uneasy silence. 

            Niwa went pale – paler, that was. There hadn't been much color in his cheeks to begin with. "What did he say?" the redhead asked, swallowing hard and putting the chopsticks carefully back in the bowl. 

            Satoshi held the other boy's hand reassuringly, not even wholly conscious of the action. "He thinks you ought to stay here, to talk if you need to." Niwa looked studiously at the rice in his lap as though counting every little grain to avoid thinking about _it_. "Do you want to talk? The other night…"

            "Not now," whispered Niwa. "I'm… alright now and I will be, for a little while at least. It's nice just knowing that you remember and that you won't forget and you'll talk with me later if I ask. It's nice knowing that… that I'm not alone, not really." He looked up at Satoshi again, and there were tears sliding slowly down his cheeks. "Thanks you, Hiwatari-kun," he said hoarsely. "I'm glad… I'm glad you're here with me."

            "It's the least I could do, Niwa-kun."

            "Eh?"

            "You kept me from killing myself, there in Krad's mind. If you hadn't saved me then, there would be anyone to help you. I owe my life to you, Niwa." He offered a rare smile and Niwa glanced up tentatively, then turned away, blushing faintly, though that may have been the fever. "You should sleep, Niwa-kun," he sighed, taking the redhead's bowl. "You're still sick."

            The boy nodded, and Satoshi helped him lie comfortably down. "Hiwatari-kun… thank you… again…"

            Satoshi said nothing, but held Niwa's hand as the redhead fell back asleep, listening to those quiet breaths with a sort of quiet relief. Niwa was… better. Niwa was not so far gone that he could not be called back to himself and Niwa did not seem so depressed, so dreamily delirious as he'd been once upon a rainy night…

            Satoshi ran his fingers lightly over the boy's palm, then let his hand fall gently back into Niwa's, and the redhead wrapped light fingers around Satoshi's as though gripping a lifeline while lost and storm-tossed and lonely. Niwa had been a lifeline himself once, and Satoshi a broken wanderer adrift on a stark white sea of feathers and ice. Niwa had been strong, once. Niwa had been Niwa once, bright and fiery Niwa…

            And still…

            _I'm glad you're here with me…_

_            If you're alive, you can meet that person somewhere, someday. That person will say "I'm glad Hiwatari-kun is with me"…_

And now…

            The streetlights flickered off one by one, leaving only the pale half-light of the gray, wan morning. Satoshi leaned over across the bed, head in his arms at Niwa's side. And the bunny familiar watched with one eye open and, content with the scene, curled up and slept.

***

            When Niwa woke up again that afternoon, Satoshi was alarmed to find that the boy's condition hadn't improved at all. He was coherent, yes, and at least he wasn't raving and delirious, but his fever had risen slightly instead of going down and his pale cheeks were touched again with an ominously heightened color. Satoshi stayed by his side as Niwa slipped back into his fever dreams, worried about the redhead's mindset affecting a dangerous relapse, and found that it was not a horribly arduous task watching over the boy. It was peaceful, calming, almost—

            And then his cell phone rang. 

            Hiwatari Satoshi did not receive a horribly large number of calls on his cell phone. Indeed, aside from his late foster-father, there was only one group of people who had the number: the upper echelon of the special Azumano task force that had once been entrusted with the task of catching the infamous Dark Mousey. "Hello?"

            "Ah, commander – there's an advance notice just in from kaitou Dark – tonight at nine—"

            "An _advance notice_?" Satoshi asked incredulously. "From Dark?"

            "Yes, commander, sir."

            "Are you sure it's not a forgery?"

            "It's – it's in the usual style."

            Satoshi scowled at the phone, a full-force glare. He happened to _know_ that the notice-sender couldn't be Dark, but how was he supposed to explain to this random, faceless underling that the real kaitou Dark had been locked away in the sealing of an ancient piece of artwork? And Satoshi himself had made certain that the phantom thief and his white-winged counterpart would not be coming back, not after the three hundred years of the Black Wings' curse had finally ended. "Put Inspector Saehara on the line."

            "Yes sir," said the officer, followed by the fumbling sound of a phone being handed off and a deep-voiced, "Commander?"

            "And advance notice?"

"Yes, sir – the Bluebird's Crown at nine o'clock." This bit of information alone would have been enough to let Satoshi know that an imposter was a work; this "Bluebird's Crown" was not a Hikari artwork and therefore no great prize in the real Dark's eyes without some extenuating circumstances. 

            "Who put me on this case, inspector?"

            "The new commander general, sir, the one who took your father's position." Satoshi glowered. His foster-father had been, undeniably, a scheming bastard, but at least he hadn't bothered pulling Satoshi into the field for heists of artworks that weren't Hikari pieces. "Shall we send a car?"

"Which museum?"

            "The Aster Gallery," said Saehara, sounding moderately surprised. For every other piece Satoshi had been called in to catch Dark on, the boy had known which museum the work in question was kept at. Then again, each of the pieces Dark had gone after were pieces by his family, and Satoshi liked to keep an eye on the heirlooms that could steal souls and scatter memories. Nevertheless, Satoshi knew the Aster well enough, since the museum sported a fair number of Hikari pieces, despite having never heard of – much less seen – this Bluebird's Crown before.

            Satoshi looked down at Niwa and sighed. "Alright," he said. "Send the car." Slipping the phone into his pocket and cursing this would-be kaitou under his breath, Satoshi shook Niwa awake. The redhead fixed one bleary eye on Satoshi expectantly and blinked slowly. "I have to go, Niwa-kun," he said. "Until ten, at least."

            "Why?" asked the redhead softly.

            Satoshi gave him a wry, sardonic smile. "Dark, of all things. Some lowlife thief is masquerading as Dark."

            Niwa laughed, but it was a weak, mirthless sort of laugh that turned quickly into a feeble cough. "Alright, Hiwatari-kun," he said hoarsely. "I'll be fine."

            "Are you sure?" asked Satoshi gently, loathe to leave.

            "Wizu will get you if anything… if anything happens."

            Satoshi nodded and squeezed Niwa's hand reassuringly. "Nothing will happen to you, Niwa-kun," he promised, and gave the boy a gentle embrace before turning out the door. The squad car was already there by the time he made it downstairs, and had him at the Aster in record time. Wordlessly, Satoshi stepped out onto the museum's steps, only to be whisked away by and orderly with floorplans and a brief. It was just like old times, Satoshi thought as he tramped through the building, except that this time there was no real prize, there was nothing glamorous or even particularly rewarding about catching the thief. 

            "Foot sensors there," he said. "And officer there. Lasers in the corner." There was no need for lasers, but if the Azumano police force was going to pull him away from Niwa, Satoshi was damn well going to make them front a bill for setup on the laser contraption his foster-father had ordered.

            "Should we have anything on the roof, commander?" asked Saehara gruffly. "When Dark flies in…"

            Satoshi shrugged. "Put someone up there if you like. I doubt there'll be much of a problem with Dark flying tonight." Saehara gave him a questioning look, Satoshi gave him an icy one and moved on.

            At nine o'clock, there was nothing. At nine o'five, Saehara was having an epileptic fit. And at quarter past, Satoshi stepped quietly out from behind a pillar and handcuffed a scrawny young man in spandex tights. The inspector's epilepsy was miraculously cured. "We caught him!" crowed Saehara, dashing into the gallery. When the inspector caught sight of the would-be phantom thief, however, his fit started up again. Satoshi was not amused.

            The blue-eyed boy left "Dark" in the officers' hands and crept quietly out of the museum, avoiding the swarm of reporters who had flocked to the scene. Saehara – or anyone, really – could have the thankless task of telling the cameras that the force had caught Dark, but not really. Dark had caught himself, after all. The only thing left for the police – or Satoshi – to do was clean up little messed like this one.

             There was a fine mist clinging to the ground; Satoshi shivered slightly as he waited for a patrol car to pull around back, listening to the rabble burble over the capture-that-wasn't. He stayed silent through the short ride back to his flat, and the officer knew better than to try and make idle conversation. 

            _So long since…_ He frowned slightly to himself. Niwa might have been dependent on touch for peace of mind, but now Satoshi had it, too. Just that handful of hours made him worried about the redhead. Niwa's fever might have shot up, or he might have slipped back into his worried, troubled nightmares. The boy's disease, it seemed, was catching. 

            If the officer noticed how preoccupied his commander seemed, he said nothing of it, and saluted emotionlessly as Satoshi stepped out of the car and into the apartment complex. Without even realizing, the blue-eyed boy quickened his pace on the stairs, so that he was almost running on the last flight.

            The Niwas' familiar was curled up on his couch. It opened one eye as Satoshi entered, then stretched itself out and rolled over. Satoshi stared at it for a moment, trying to reason out what the demon bunny's presence on the couch meant for Niwa's health, then tossed his coat to the floor and tore through the flat.

            And there was Niwa, propped up against the bed, staring out the window at the lamps and the empty street. He looked up when Satoshi came in, a dreamy sort of look, and smiled gently. "You're home, Hiwatari-kun…" He nodded and sat down on the bed, hand going to the redhead's cheek almost instinctively, checking for any signs of fever. The boy's temperature was down; nothing had happened while he'd been gone… "Did you catch the fake Dark?" Niwa asked, catching Satoshi's hand before the blue-eyed boy could draw it away. 

            "Yes," sighed Satoshi. "It wasn't even a challenge."

            "Good," said Niwa firmly. "Dark would have wanted it that way." He played with Satoshi's fingers for a moment and added, fervently, "Thank you."

            And then he leaned over and kissed him.

            It was not a particularly brilliant kiss, as kisses go. Their cheeks banged clumsily as Niwa pulled away, and Satoshi was too startled to be in any way responsive, but it was a kiss nonetheless.

            "Niwa—"

            The redhead put a finger against Satoshi's lips. "Shh," he murmured. He kissed Satoshi again, a short little play along the fingers that went on for a time-stopping heartbeat.

            "What are you doing—?"

            "Saying thank you," he smiled, draping his arms over Satoshi's shoulders. He leaned forward again, but this time Satoshi kissed him back, and Niwa let out a small, soft moan that sent shivers down Satoshi's spine. The redhead's hands went to the small of Satoshi's back and lingered there for a second before tracing his hips upwards, fingers soft and faint as the sigh of a summer breeze. The blue-eyed boy ran a hand through the curling locks of Niwa's hair, toying with the little twists of scarlet held against the nape of the redhead's neck by the faint sweat of fever, his free hand caressing Niwa's cheek. "Satoshi-kun…" He buried his face in Satoshi's chest, shaking slightly, and Satoshi put his arms around the redhead's waist.

            "Daisuke…"

            The boy turned his face up and kissed Satoshi once again, this time opening his lips and pressing his tongue forward, and Satoshi kissed back as ardently as he could manage.

            _Daisuke… Daisuke… Daisuke…_

            The redhead pulled Satoshi down to the mattress with him, legs sliding up around the blue-eyed boy's hips, lips only leaving Satoshi's for a second to pull off Satoshi's shirt, and even then one hand still ran over Satoshi's waist. It was Satoshi who finally pulled away, unbuttoning Daisuke's shirt and kissing his way down to the redhead's small, slender hips, and all of the boy was so _soft_. Daisuke moaned low in his throat and arched upwards and that, that was when Satoshi broke away from him, face still just inches from Daisuke's. "I can't do this to you," he said hoarsely. "You're sick, you're delirious."

            "No," he whispered. "That's not it. I'm fine, Satoshi-kun. I'm fine because of you, because you were there when everyone else was gone and because you came back and because—" He faltered, then smiled and leaned upward to kiss Satoshi sweetly, gently, innocently. "Because I love you."

***

… well… erm… at least the badly written almost-smut had a sweet last line. Forgive me? There are so many things that seem forced to me in this chapter, so I'll probably just nod silently if you flame, except that if you flame you'd damn well better have suggestions for improvement in the next chapter.

"Nevermore" broke fifty reviews, boys and girls! Thanks to Sage of Angst, Ember Elidd ("no" what?), kawaiidark, Flighting dreams (sorry, but Satoshi calling Daisuke "Daisuke" in the last chapter was more of a mistake than anything else), RuByMoOn17, digitalized, Defectus-who-was-formerly-Shooting Starr (for agreeing with my moderately responsible side), Luine, KimiKodoku, Ayame-Sohma, x Akuma-chan x, Natachan, vanishingact, kaori-chan, x, forgottenfayth, xxphatxbaybeexx, Leland Lancaster, and kawaiirabbit14.

Cheer for the happy shounen-ai – review, drop a line, flame, applaud! And please, please, tell me if you'd be willing to dredge through the next installment as a beta.


	5. Chapter Five: Mephistopheles

It's been a month, but here it is: _Nevermore_, chapter five, featuring Satoshi angst, some Daisuke point-of-view, and the foundation of the next stage of the plot.

Disclaimers: Characters are Yukiru Sugisaki's, title inspired by Poe, quotes from Eliot and Marlowe, the latter of whom shares dibs on Mephistopheles with Goethe. Hey, the story's original title was "Ashes of Mephistopheles;" I figured the guy needed a reference somewhere. This fic is slashy, but this chapter on its own is rather obstinately PG.

Love to my beta-readers -- Defectus, Vampire of the Light, and Danski -- without whom this chapter may very well have been utterly unreadable.

***

**_Nevermore: Chapter Five_**

"_Thinkst thou that I who saw the face of God,  
And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,   
Am not tormented with ten thousand hells,  
In being deprived of everlasting bliss?_" – Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus.  
  


"_There will be time to murder and create,  
And time for all the works and days of hands   
That lift and drop a question on your plate;  
Time for you and time for me,_

_And time yet for a hundred indecisions,  
And for a hundred visions and revisions,   
Before the taking of a toast and tea_." – T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."_  
  
_

            It was not, oddly enough, the fact that he had his arms around Daisuke's waist that surprised Satoshi when he woke up, but, rather, that Daisuke's hair _tickled_. He propped himself up against the head of the bed, blinking at the sunlight, and looked down. There was Daisuke, smiling faintly as he slept, resting against Satoshi with a content, peaceful air. No tossing, no turning, no fits in the middle of the night. Satoshi sighed and sat up completely, burying his head in his hands. _Daisuke—_

The redhead stirred and opened his eyes bemusedly. "Satoshi…?"

            "Yes?"

            Daisuke sat in a swish of sheets. "Ne, Satoshi, are you alright?"

            Alright? _Alright_? Of course he was alright. Daisuke was getting better, Krad and Dark were gone, there was nothing to worry about… but still, something nagged at him. Guilt? The emotion was familiar enough. He looked fleetingly at wide-eyed Daisuke and sighed. "I'm perfectly fine."

            Daisuke rested his head lightly on Satoshi's shoulder. "You're lying," he said quietly. "I'm fine, Satoshi-kun. You should be, too." He kissed Satoshi's cheek lightly and smiled. "Don't feel bad. I'm here with you, you're here with me."

            "I know," he said, looking up at the blank ceiling. "I know."

***

            Satoshi's phone rang while he was making breakfast, though somehow he didn't hear it and Daisuke was the one to pick up. The redhead padded quietly into the kitchen without the other boy noticing at all. "It's Inspector Saehara."

            This, of course, lead to an awkward period in which Satoshi had to explain that Daisuke was sick and that the Niwa family was away, and yes, a meeting was _quite_ inconvenient for him today, but if there was no way around it, then Satoshi would be there.

            "How much of that did you catch?" asked Satoshi resignedly.

            Daisuke lifted his head blearily from the kitchen table. "All of it, I think. Don't look so upset, Satoshi-kun. I'll be fine. I was last night, wasn't I?" 

            Satoshi shrugged silently and set a plate of toast in front of Daisuke, who at ate and chattered idly away with reassuring energy. It was just like old times, more or less, though the redhead kept holding Satoshi's hand. This in itself, making the boy smile again, was worth all those hours at Daisuke's side.

            "What is it?" the redhead asked, as Satoshi poked absentmindedly at breakfast.

            He squeezed Daisuke's hand gently. "Nothing," he said, and, this time, he meant it.

***

            The meeting was dull, but that was only to be expected. Satoshi contemplated sleeping while Saehara switched between frothing at the mouth and putting on a properly rueful face for his superiors, apologizing for the minor disaster the public relations department was going through. 

            "And you, commander, what do you think? Will Dark be back – the real Dark?" It took Satoshi a moment to place the speaker – the man who'd been promoted to replace his foster-father.

            "He might," said Satoshi carefully. A flat-out "no" would mean an explanation of things that were best left within the bloodline, but leaving an answer open could mean being pulled out on more ridiculous stake-outs like last night's.

            "You don't know?"

            Satoshi gave the man an icy stare and shrugged the question off. "The phantom thief has stayed away from the museums for long periods of time before. I don't see why he wouldn't come back."

            The supreme commander sighed, then straightened up and smiled amiably. "Well, commander, I'd hoped you could clear the issue up for my department, but if no one has anything else to add…?" He stood, closing his folder in clear sign of dismissal. "I'll see you gentlemen at the Narcissus Museum in two hours, then. We've received another advance notice." He tossed a small white card onto the conference table that read, in looping, tight handwriting, "I will take Pandora's Box at eight o'clock tonight. Signed, Light."

            Saehara was the one who went insane at this particular announcement, but it was Satoshi whose heart sank into the pit of his stomach. It was not the fact that there _was_ an advance notice that worried him – this idiot, after all, was calling himself "Light" and hopping onto a cramped bandwagon – but _what_ he was stealing. 

            _Pandora's Box…_

            It was pure coincidence that this particular imposter was going after one of the most powerful Hikari works, surely… it had to be. No one knew, no one was left who could or would go after the fragments… _Coincidence_, he told himself, but there was a familiar tingle of tense energy running up his spine.

            Satoshi, naturally, was not in the brightest of moods when he returned to his flat, and he almost knocked Daisuke out when the boy jumped him at the curb. "Daisuke-kun?" The redhead was dressed in one of Satoshi's old shirts and a pair of too-long pants that bunched over his bare feet. "What are you doing?"

            Daisuke pulled his demon-bunny out of a pocket and smiled. "With and I needed some fresh air," he said brightly.

            "You're sick." Satoshi put an arm around Daisuke's shoulders, and the smaller boy leaned complacently into the gesture. 

            "We were fine," he said cheerfully. "We just wanted to step outside."

            Satoshi shrugged and pulled away, but Daisuke caught his fingers and held his hand as Satoshi veered him back inside the apartment complex. It was a nice day, he told himself; he was being completely irrational. But he didn't want Daisuke hurt all over again…

            _This is something that you would never have dreamed of before. You used to be without attachment… You never used to let your heart be hurt for the sake of an outsider…_

            But he _was_ worried, damnit, and if anything happened to Daisuke…

            "Ne, Satoshi-kun, why is the bathtub under the stairs?"

            He blinked out of his reverie. To be honest, Satoshi had no idea. He couldn't even remember where he'd gotten the thing. "It's a magic bathtub," he said dourly, opening the door, "one of those Hikari artworks you never heard of." Daisuke blinked. "There's a shower in the bathroom, you know."

            "Oh, I saw that," said Daisuke blandly. "The one next to the study, right?"

            Satoshi froze. Had Daisuke seen it? No, no, it was fine, he'd hidden them all, just in case… _Hidden them out in the open, where any lowlife could try to steal them_, he thought bitterly, eyes flashing angrily.

            "I – I'm sorry, Satoshi-kun." The redhead recoiled like a rabbit suddenly worried that the fox might be angry enough to leap, his familiar starting to glare at Satoshi. "Did you want me to stay out of there? I didn't get into anything…"

            "It's alright, Daisuke," he said, putting his arm back around the boy and watching worry drain out of the redhead like water spilling out of a sieve. "It's not you. You can go through the study if you'd like…" Having Daisuke in the study was better than having Daisuke wandering around barefoot on the street.

            "Good," said the redhead, face brightening. "I saw your painting, though, the one in the corner. It's amazing."

            "It's a Hikari thing," he said, all nonchalance, "like the blue hair."

            "Harada-san thought you dyed it when you transferred," said Daisuke, and reached up to muss Satoshi's bangs.

            "Did she now?" asked Satoshi, catching Daisuke's hand with a cat's lazy ease.

            Daisuke shrugged. "It's the sort of thing Risa-san thinks about. You weren't very talkative, so…"

            "I had other things on my mind," he said, waving whatever suspicions Risa might have held away.

            "Then what's on your mind now?"

            "More Dark imposters," he said sourly. "You made stealing famous artwork trendy, Daisuke-kun."

            The redhead rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't be worried about that, though. At least, you didn't seem too worried about the theft _last_ night…"

            "I'm not worried," he lied smoothly. Last night had been different. The stakes had been low last night – a random criminal and a random art-piece. Tonight, the thief was still probably an asylum escapee, but there was always a risk to be run, and if this would-be phantom thief managed to steal Pandora's Box…

            _He won't_.

            It seemed that Daisuke wasn't the only thing Satoshi had to worry about now.

***

            Daisuke flopped down on the couch, cuddling With. The flat was quiet without Satoshi – too quiet and too lonely – but Satoshi would be back soon, and that made the empty silence a lighter, warmer burden. "So, With," he sighed, "what are we going to do?"

            "Kyuu!"

            The redhead smiled absentmindedly and got to his feet. "Come on. Satoshi-kun said there was something to do in the study." Technically, Satoshi had given him the okay to _go_ in the study, but Daisuke took that to mean that there was something in the little room worth looking at.

            The study was just as one might have expected from Satoshi: organized and full of books that were all very thick or very old, the smell of parchment and paper clinging to the air. A small corner was devoted to heavy tomes that appeared to be all mathematics or criminology, but most of the books had titles like "Studies in Historical Art" or "The Cultural Revolution and the Death of the Classical Era." Daisuke shied away from those (their veritable layers of dust were enough to keep anyone away) and moved, wide-eyed down the shelves. The books here were well-thumbed and, for the most part, ancient, with leather spines and peeping sheaves of parchment. One was titled simply "Historia." Daisuke pulled it down and leafed carefully through the pages, whose heavy parchment seemed clean and un-aged. Some of the pieces were familiar from Dark's heists – he lingered for a moment on the description of Saint Tears's restorative powers and moved hurriedly on from the Fallen Angel's Love Potion – and some he'd seen down in the basement, but most were works he'd never seen before, all carefully and elaborately sketched in bright, fresh ink.

            On the very last pages was the Black Wings.

            He thought, for a moment, of slamming the book shut (With was hissing at the rendering, after all, which was typically a good warning to stay away from something), but even though the book itself went on and on about the dangers of the sculpture, he read on. Dark had been born and then disappeared thanks to this thing, and Daisuke wanted to know how and, dammit, _why_ his other self had vanished.

            _We have bound the Black Wings as best we can for now, though so long as fragments of its power remains in the world, it will never be sealed completely._ _There is a harmony that cannot be fully explained between the Black Wings and its curse-children, but no matter how many hours we put into its study, with the ritual interrupted we cannot tell what powers the Black Wings has, simply that they are vast and somehow attuned to its children…_

_            The rune-etched silver that binds the Black Wings cannot hold forever, despite our efforts. The chains that bind its wild power will always have a weakness; Mephistopheles will always come to claim a soul and a life's work can always be undone._

Mephistopheles? Daisuke flipped back through the book to a page he'd only half-seen, titled in flowing calligraphy "Fang of Mephistopheles." It was an axe, cruel and barbaric and unlovely, all black and stark, cold silver, but he'd seen it before, that night at the museum…

            _The chains… a weakness…_

             His heart was pounding a relentless beat in his chest as he stared at the page, at the picture, at the words. Things could be undone, wrongs righted, injustices repaired and a life returned… Things hadn't ended; not now, not yet. There was still time and a chance…

            _Dark…_

            Niwa Daisuke closed the book quietly and stared at it for a long, long time.

***

I think I've said this for the last few chapters, but I don't like this chapter. While the kana and the show say "Wizu," I'll stop switching between spellings and use "With" for the rest of the fic in protest of Tokyopop's uber-not-cool "Wiz." Several of you mentioned that you thought the story was moving too quickly, and I'm truly sorry. It was much slower paced on the outline, but somehow the whole thing was fast-forwarded.

Eighty-seven reviews! Love and kudos to kaori-chan, SilveryKitsune, Enkay, kawaiidark, Flighting dreams (_yes, it is illogical, and I feel bad about sacrificing logic on the altar of moving the story along. And yes, confusion has been caused by fake-Dark.)_, Sage of Angst (_yay for Greek mythology!_), Ayame-Sohma, Leland Lancaster, fowler Nsow, LittleDarkOne, Uzumaki-sama, digitalized, xxphatxbaybeexx, Ember Elidd, golden-flame4, KimiKodokuu, Eizoku (_the kana reads "Wizu," I believe, but Sugisaki-sensei has written it out in English as "With"_), forgottenfayth, Defectus (_I tried to avoid it, but the phrase ate my soul and threatened to steal my law dictionary_), Hikaru, Danski, Madness, Nocens Calamus (_it'll be a long fic, but you can imagine the lemon if you'd like!_), Severed Glass (_I'll work on the things you brought up_), Vampire of the Light, B.G. Pendragon, Sleine, Xelena, Shen3 (_heh, I thought about that, then realized that getting Daisuke out of his wet clothes would mean Satoshi undressing him and decided that would be more awkward than it was worth_), Falling Cinders, Jaded Gossamer, and Naoko Kensaku. So many of you, and I love you all!

Now the tangled web is set – review, smack, appraise, cheer!


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